Zell Dincht (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
swatsflies) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
snowblindrpg2016-06-09 05:40 pm
swatsflies) wrote in snowblindrpg2016-06-09 05:40 pm
[log] Inncoming [open]
Characters: Sad Losers and Guests
Location The Hotel (162)
Date: Various times during days 124 - 125
Summary: Hanging out, giving out keys, and being sad.
Warnings: Dumb Teens, Grumpire, Brian, a lack of symmetry, and anything else.
A hotel--the Norfinbury Inn. By hotel standards, it's not especially large, but it's the largest building in the downtown area. The lobby is mostly empty and seems a bit old-fashioned in design, with what appear to be wooden floors and fairly plain walls. There are a few cozy areas where people can sit, and a fireplace in the center that, while it has no wood, is in perfect working order. The front desk has nothing of note except for all the keycards to the various rooms of the hotel. It looks like there are a total of twenty rooms. There is no elevator--looks like you'll have to use the stairs the old-fashioned way.
There is a small dining room area, although there are no tables or chairs to be found. The room echoes uncomfortably due to its emptiness. It connects to a small industrial kitchen, although there is no longer any food or appliances to be found. It seems like the ovens and stoves were cut out of their places. The sinks still work, at least. There is also a door that unlocks with a management keycard that can be found in the lobby that leads downstairs.
The basement is very simple. It's colder down here than in the rest of the building, and utilitarian in style. There's a small break room, a laundry room that no longer has any of its machinery but does have large rolling baskets for moving clothes in bulk (that refuse to leave the hotel, unfortunately) and some cleaning carts devoid of cleaning supplies (that are just as stubborn as the clothes baskets). There's a small room with space for what must have once been a furnace--and an actual very old-fashioned incinerator. It's not on, of course, but if a fire were started manually, it would still function. There's nothing inside it.
The first floor of the hotel contains rooms 101 to 110. There are five single rooms and five double rooms. All of the plumbing works, though the water runs cold. The second floor, containing rooms 201 to 210, is identical to the first floor, except for one door that has no key, only a note on the front: "All at once, use the keys". There's no place to insert any keys, however.
Tied to the knob of the front door is various eating utensils, nails, screws, and a spare house key. Looks like someone rigged a doorbell to be alerted to newcomers. The fire is going in the lobby, and there appears to be a mattress close to it.
((OOC: Miiiingling. Toss up your own starters))
Location The Hotel (162)
Date: Various times during days 124 - 125
Summary: Hanging out, giving out keys, and being sad.
Warnings: Dumb Teens, Grumpire, Brian, a lack of symmetry, and anything else.
A hotel--the Norfinbury Inn. By hotel standards, it's not especially large, but it's the largest building in the downtown area. The lobby is mostly empty and seems a bit old-fashioned in design, with what appear to be wooden floors and fairly plain walls. There are a few cozy areas where people can sit, and a fireplace in the center that, while it has no wood, is in perfect working order. The front desk has nothing of note except for all the keycards to the various rooms of the hotel. It looks like there are a total of twenty rooms. There is no elevator--looks like you'll have to use the stairs the old-fashioned way.
There is a small dining room area, although there are no tables or chairs to be found. The room echoes uncomfortably due to its emptiness. It connects to a small industrial kitchen, although there is no longer any food or appliances to be found. It seems like the ovens and stoves were cut out of their places. The sinks still work, at least. There is also a door that unlocks with a management keycard that can be found in the lobby that leads downstairs.
The basement is very simple. It's colder down here than in the rest of the building, and utilitarian in style. There's a small break room, a laundry room that no longer has any of its machinery but does have large rolling baskets for moving clothes in bulk (that refuse to leave the hotel, unfortunately) and some cleaning carts devoid of cleaning supplies (that are just as stubborn as the clothes baskets). There's a small room with space for what must have once been a furnace--and an actual very old-fashioned incinerator. It's not on, of course, but if a fire were started manually, it would still function. There's nothing inside it.
The first floor of the hotel contains rooms 101 to 110. There are five single rooms and five double rooms. All of the plumbing works, though the water runs cold. The second floor, containing rooms 201 to 210, is identical to the first floor, except for one door that has no key, only a note on the front: "All at once, use the keys". There's no place to insert any keys, however.
Tied to the knob of the front door is various eating utensils, nails, screws, and a spare house key. Looks like someone rigged a doorbell to be alerted to newcomers. The fire is going in the lobby, and there appears to be a mattress close to it.
((OOC: Miiiingling. Toss up your own starters))
no subject
Never that. If I sound like I'm suggesting it, it's only... no, let me make that clear. If it sounds like I'm suggesting it, punch me in the face.
[He is very serious about it.]
I wanted to be sure you know where you stand, that's all. Both of you are - [he hesitates, and grins a rueful grin.] You'll have some choice remarks about me saying this, no doubt, but both of you are very young.
no subject
[That's said softly, the tone of voice of someone who really has seen and done a lot. Maybe more than he wishes he did. But the melancholy only lasts a moment before he shakes it off and huffs at Beckett to humor him.]
You know, old people don't have a corner on the market for "having seen some shit."
no subject
[It's not a terribly optimistic statement, though he's still grinning - crooked - when he says it.]
Even among my kind, I am - was considered to have some seniority. There are things I've forgotten, [he stops for a sip from the mug, and sneezes again, and sighs in the wake of that,] which I know you all find hilarious. But it's amazing how little people change. Young blood, raging hormones, dramatic misunderstandings, swearing of eternal grudges... well. Perhaps not that with mortals.
no subject
no subject
[He catches that wave of bitterness before it gets out of hand. At least his tone is appropriately self-depreciating.]
It's a matter of perspective. Younger people have less of it. Things that seem very large now will seem very small in a while.... or then they won't. Some things are objectively terrible, I suppose. But telling which is which is another question.
no subject
[Regardless of how young Beckett seems to think he is, Kunsel's old enough to know that the man has a point about age and experience bringing a certain amount of perspective. He can think of plenty of things he thought were terrible when he was young that only scratch the surface of what he's seen now.
Still, he also knows that some things really are as terrible as they seem, regardless of any level of perspective.]
It sounds like we're in agreement, then. Or at least, something close enough. Sure I can't get that to extend to agreeing to come upstairs?
no subject
But here, whatever happens, it's between him and the walls. If he nods off, if the coughing flares up, if anything at all - it's his to deal with, no one looking on, no one as much as knowing. The smallest measure of control. It means a great deal.
He shakes his head again.]
Thank you - truly - but I'll be fine here.
no subject
[Kunsel makes that cheerful declaration as much because it's true as because he's defending his friends.]
They're not that bad. You just don't see it.
[Even so, he knows he's not likely to win a battle of convincing Beckett of the others' merits. Not right now. So he tilts his head in acknowledgment, then stands up, intending to head back upstairs.]
I'll bring your clothes down once they're dried, then. Take care of yourself down here, Beckett.